


Necessary Farewells

by Frayach



Category: Original Work
Genre: Break Up, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach





	Necessary Farewells

I found your key on the floor beneath the mail slot. I left it there. My shoes beside the door looked lonely; the hat rack sagged despite the absence of your coat. In the kitchen, the pans grieved as the setting sun took back its reflection. I could not comfort them. You left some change on the counter, a ticket stub and a crumpled tissue. Was that your way of saying this was hard for you? That you wept after you’d made up your mind?

The stairs complained of your absence under my feet. Our – my – bed was made. The drawers moaned when I opened them. Did you know it would be the absence of your clothes that killed me? Your heart peeled away from this room like the paper from the walls. Not even the glue of my pleas could keep you here.

That is why we breathe – so that even in the deepest silence there will be a sound. The doorknobs remembered your touch. The pillows remembered your hair. You didn’t take the photographs. I guess they were too heavy, like stones in your pockets or pebbles in your shoes.

The tub was still wet, the window open, a damp towel hung from the hook on the door. You left behind nothing but the lingering scent of your soap – not even your toothbrush, which was as good as leaving a note – “I won’t be back.” Everything would have to go: the rug, the shower curtain, the sheets. Even the half-empty container of milk in the fridge.

You promised to write, but I know you won’t. That’s not your way. I am a bee in amber – even the veins in my wings are intact. You will keep me and put me some place where you can lose me and then have the pleasure of finding me again. But I have the house. Unless I burn it down. The cruelest thing you did was leave me with everything.

I know why you left and why you won’t return. We talked until our words were nothing but worn out socks. I will make peace with this someday. There will be the sound of other footsteps in the hall; the imprint of a different head on your pillow. But until then, I will sleep alone, listening to your ghost and hoping you are happy.

Good-bye, my more-than-friend. I would’ve told you to your face, but you made me too late. You were gone before I came back to the house-that-was-once-our-home. Mail will still come for you, and people will still ask me how you are. And then both will stop. It won’t matter. Just like blood cannot forget the ventricles of the heart that pumps it, I cannot forget your face. I wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
